Vistas

    Among summer's most delicious moments are mountain hikes.
     This week, I was blessed by the company of four young guys who offered to climb to the ridiculously named Poo Poo Point.
    Eight miles, up and back.
    It turned out to be one of the hottest days of the year. 87-degrees. For the Pacific Northwest, that's scorching.
    I used to run this same hike after completing my weekly word-quota for the Raleigh Harmon books. It was a badge of sorts. But time is proving it marches with even greater determination: Now the boys left me in their dust.
     Left me with my thoughts.
     I wish I could say some brilliant insights hit me. The paltry truth is cliches came, unbidden yet with the stubbornness of stupidity.
     How the deep forest reminds me of growth, eternity. How climbing a mountain is like meeting life's challenges.
    Nothing revelatory, I know.
    But when we reached the top, I took this photo.
     Years from now, I hope these guys understand its greater meaning.
     Each one of them is on the cusp of manhood.
    And just past their feet, the mountainside disappears as though sliced by a guillotine. Most summer days, hang-gliders are launching themselves from that spot, flying into thin air, giving a whoop, and trusting God as if they were nothing more, and nothing less, than birds.
 
 
 

 

Have You Seen Your City?

I've said it before: I love a good hunt.

     Today The G-Men and I went on a scavenger hunt through Seattle. Sponsored by City Solve, the clues proved challenging, mind-bending and demanding of some good hard walking. We saw our city with fresh eyes and discovered previously unexplored parts of this hip, smart and frequently odd town.
     We also deciphered nearly all ten of our designated stops -- with one kick-me exception.

Westlake area. A bonus clue. Find a drink with ice cubes.
And for once, Seattle needed cooling off.
Temps hit almost 80 today.

      The clue was to combine the name of a Mediterranean toy dog with a bird of prey. We decided on "Maltese Falcon." The second part of the clue said that the designated stop was on 2nd Avenue "in the north end of Pioneer Square."
     We saved this clue for the end, since it was on our route back to the race's finish -- at 88 Keys, a dueling piano bar (not kidding). But by the time we got to 2nd Ave, we'd already spent nearly four hours hiking Seattle's notorious hills, and now, as we wandered up and down 2nd Ave, our spirits flagged.
    Finally, we stopped a cop on horseback.
    "We're looking for The Maltese Falcon."
    He scratched his head. "Only thing that comes to mind is a statue," he said. "It's of some predatory bird."
    It was possible. After all, Seattle has a statue of Vladamir Lenin. Why not the the bird of Bogart fame.
    But the tatue wasn't in Pioneer Square.
   "And," the cop added, "I don't think that bird is a falcon."

One of the funnier clues.
Spoofing the Tom Cruise divorce: Find L.Ron Hubbard's
book, Dianetics. The guy in the Scientology Center
was NOT amused. 

    My husband continued to grill the cop, picking his brain for anything named Maltese or Falcon -- a restaurant, bar, antique store -- anything!
     Meanwhile I gazed longingly down a side street. Heaven was right there -- down Cherry Street. Seattle Mystery Bookshop.
     If only we had time for tangents! Go browse, lose myself in the stacks . . . .
      But the clock was ticking, and we were losing.       After wandering 2nd Avenue some more, we finally decided to this stop would be one of our allowable "skips" that the rules allow.

    Heading down to 88 Keys, I started banking the good memories. My kids saw -- really saw -- their city. From crowds and tourists and street musicians to sweet and helpful city residents joyfully helping us whenever we got turned around to chain-smoking addicts outside recovery clinics. All of them intriguing characters, providing teachable moments.  And we probably walked a good five miles, from Pioneer Square and the waterfront to Belltown, Capitol Hill, south Lake Union, through downtown and Pike Place Market and back to Pioneer Square.
     Yet despite all that, I felt haunted.
     Somewhere -- right under our noses-- that blasted Maltese Falcon was mocking us.
    At the finish, a girl checked our photos, making sure we actually found each clue and that all four of us were in every picture.
       I glanced over her shoulder, reading the answer sheet.
      Maltese Falcon, it read. Seattle Mystery Book Store.
      "What?" I cried. "It was the book store?!"
      She nodded. "Not a lot of people got that one."
      Fine, I wanted to say, but I'm a mystery writer. If there was one clue we should've gotten, that was it! And my heart had been pulling me to go there-- and I ignored it.
      I could get all philosophical here -- about following your heart, thinking less literally, not watching the clock -- but I'm frankly too tired.
    I want to put my feet up and celebrate with the G-Men.
    Because next year, we'll be out there again.
     And beware, mystery clues. I'm coming for you.
     City Solve holds races around the country. Check to see if there's on in your your area. 

We were SUPPOSED to find a sign with the word "love."
We finally resorted to changing Move to Love.  The guy painting this sign took our picture.
You can see an incomplete green blob, on the right, which we interrupted.
Nice guy -- nice city.

The Terrific Trish Perry

Trish Perry's novels are cherished for their grace, tender insights, great writing . . . and humor.          

       Lots of humor.

      "I sat down and picked up The Guy I'm Not Dating, not really intending to read it," wrote one reviewer of Trish's first book, "just thinking I'd glance over a few pages. Two hours later I'm still 'glancing over' those pages and laughing enough to make my husband ask, 'What's so funny?' Later the same night, I turned to the last page and had to declare, 'Loved it! Loved, loved, loved it!"

      Short-listed for the Romance Writer's of America Inspirational Reader's Choice Award, The Guy I'm Not Dating was followed by ten more books (and more awards), from the Tea for Two series to devotionals to co-authoring with the likes of Debby Mayne, Jane Kirkpatrick, Kristin Billerbeck and Dian Hunt.
    Trish's latest release is The Midwife's Legacy. A generational story, told through the imaginations of four different authors, the story begins in 1800s Midwest before moving to the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Trish's story, Labor of Love, is linked to the others by a journal whose entries illuminate the calling of midwifery. As each story unfolds, the journal provides encouragement to each woman navigating her own path as a midwife. The women also discover each nugget of wisdom is also speaking into their personal lives.
    I caught up with the utterly lovely Trish to ask her a few questions about her books and her writing life. I hope you enjoy her company as much as I did. Be sure to visit her website, www.trishperry.com, and soak up the writerly atmosphere.

Some writers have a direct path to publication, but others follow circuitous routes which eventually deposit them at their intended destination. Which method describes your journey to becoming an author? And would you choose that path again?

My route was definitely circuitous! I didn't even start writing until I was in my early forties, well after I had dipped my toes in a number of different ponds, professionally. But I brought those years of experience with me when I began to write, so I hesitate to say I would change the path if I could. Still, I do envy those young writers who figure it out well in advance and aim for education and experience that will enhance their writing abilities and chances for publication. The idea of having started publishing 20 years earlier than I did? Sigh.

Yes, "everything in its time" is much easier said than endured. But you weren't idle because while your imagination percolated with story ideas, you went and got a degree in psychology. Does that degree help you write fiction? Can you give us an example from your latest release?

Yes, my degree is a huge help. I don't sit down and create characters who fit a textbook definition or diagnosis in any fashion, but I've benefitted from studying counseling and the types of dysfunction many of us experience in our lives and families. When it comes to designing internal conflict, it helps to have been absorbed by psychology in the past.

As far as an example from Labor of Love is concerned, my heroine, Kendra, loves being a midwife and switched quite a few years ago from the pre-med path her sister took. Kendra's father, now deceased, was a noted cardiologist, just as Kendra's sister is now. Kendra knows her father regarded midwives with a degree of disdain. So now she feels a residual lack of respect from her father, which is mirrored by events that develop with a local doctor in the story. That local doctor's criticism of Kendra hits her at a deeper level than it might, had her father been more appreciative of the profession. In other words, Kendra has daddy issues, and they're being played out with this doctor.

Yes, I see the psych degree in there! Excellent. What drew you writing about midwives? 

My agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, asked me if I had any interest in writing about a contemporary midwife. I loved the idea and wanted to dispel some of the stereotypes that still linger about how midwives present themselves and operate today. The first three novellas in the collection involve midwives from times gone by, when the profession wasn't considered an unusual practice. Today many people still think of midwifery as it was when it resurged in the 60s--rather fringe-like. The kind of thing practiced by hippy chicks living in communes. I enjoyed demystifying that misconception.

On your website, you always ask writers to name Five Random Things about themselves. Turning the tables here! Tell us Five Random Things about Trish Perry.

• I can't swim. Not a bit. I'm like a big bag of rocks in the water.

• When I was a kid, my sisters and I performed regularly at a nursing home, singing old British songs our mother taught us.

• I have a black belt in TaeKwonDo. I don't remember much of that today, though. That was about a decade and fifteen pounds ago.

• I used to sing lead in a rock/R&B band. Loved that.  

• I'm an oddly good shot, which I learned while living in a rural setting filled with a plethora of "varmints." 

Girls who can shoot straight are extra-cool. What can readers expect next from Trish Perry? 

I'm about to write a Christmas novella for a collection with Martha Rogers and Debby Mayne, for B&H's Bloomfield series. That won't release until 2014, I believe. I'm deep into a day job right now, so I've had to pull back on contracts for  a while. I miss writing regularly, and I can't wait to get cracking on this new project!

 In the meantime, head to Trish's page on Facebook and give her a big ol' LIKE.

National Poetry ... Month?

It's become personal tradition to recognize National Poetry Month only when half of April is already over. Nothing subversive on my part, although that would be a nice pun.

The lack -- half-lack? -- of recognition comes from a very busy life.

Busy in a way that feels as unbound as free verse, lush as a sonnet, and metered by the rhythms of growing boys.

While I still think setting aside one month for heralding poetry is ridiculous, thirty days is more honor than love's one-day in February. Perhaps the time allotted speaks volumes about our culture.

But today, as National Poetry Month dawned on me once again, I pulled out one of my favorite poets. W.H. Auden first crossed my path in college, in particular, "As I Went Out One Evening." The words hit me like granite. I was a geology major, and Auden was weaving into his verse elements such as stones, tectonics, and glaciers. Better: he was using those elements correctly, even from a scientific perspective.

When I became a Christian, his verse expanded even further. That reverential Catholic perspective of his, dyed by profound personal trials, reached into every twisted chamber of my heart.

Here's the great poet reading the words which today still feel like a death-to-life blow.

Is Cara Putman for Real??

Cara Putman is smart, pretty, and a second-generation homeschooler. She's also written fourteen books and is a practicing attorney.

If she wasn't so kind, we could hate her.

While running full speed, I caught up with Cara long enough to ask her some questions about her life and her latest release, A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island.

Quickly, here's an overview of the novel: Attorney Alanna Stone vowed long ago to avoid her hometown of Mackinac Island. Too many painful memories. But after an exhausting high-profile case and an urgent plea from her parents, Alanna heads home and winds up living next door to Jonathan Covington -- her first love, and her first lesson in betrayal. Alanna is trying protect her privacy and her heart but secrets intersect with a murder, and sudden controversy turns public opinion against her, and possibly her family. Jonathan, meanwhile, has stubbornly refused dating advice from his family and friends, believing he’s already found the perfect woman. But with Alanna’s return, he starts wondering if he’s waited for someone who isn’t the right one after all . . . .

Cara, certain places bite writers and infect them with curiosity. Did that happen to you with Mackinac Island? 

Mackinac Island is a magical place. It’s one of those rare places where you can step back in time without leaving this century. The first time we visited the island I wondered if the long drive could possibly be worth the destination. It’s a long 11 hours from where I live. But once we stepped on the ferry, leaving our car behind, I knew we were headed somewhere special. Boy, was I right. At that time I hadn’t started writing but when we returned in 2009 I was well on the way to writing with several books out. So this time I walked around looking for story ideas. I found them…so much so, I’m surprised the police chief let me leave after asking him how his department would handle a murder.

What kind of story -- mystery, romance -- is"A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island"? 

Definitely contemporary romance. But this book also includes strong mystery threads with a teeny touch of suspense. The heroine is an attorney who grew up on the island but left as soon as she could after high school and never returned. Now she’s forced to go home to help her family and confronts the questions from her past…and then someone’s murdered and the past collides with the present.

 You're a lawyer. A homeschooling mom of four kids. And you've just published your fourteenth book in seven years. Will you place one hand on a Bible and swear you are not dashing into phone booths and emerging with the giant S on your shirt?

 You know, some of my closest friends have threatened to find some Wonder Woman bracelets. I think her plane would be even more fun. I like the idea of an S though – flying without a plane would rock! In reality I’m just a mom who doesn’t get a lot of sleep at certain seasons of the writing cycle. I’ve been blessed to weave together a life that allows me to keep my fingers in law and teaching, but focus on my kids and writing for this period of my life. It’s a lot of work, but worth it. Maybe those bracelets would help!

 What key elements have you learned in balancing writing, law and life? 

 One key has been to learn to ask for help. My husband and I have had to have a few periods where we talked about the need to have people come help with the kids when I’m under deadline. It helps keep some of the midnight hours not quite so long. But there are great seasons where I don’t have consistent help. I’ve also gotten better at trying to schedule moments of rest. When I don’t, God has a habit of building them in for me. I tend to wind up like the Energizer Bunny and forget how to slow down. 

What's your favorite reader comment? 

 My favorite reader comments have come with my World War II novels. With Stars in the Night several readers wrote blog posts letting me know which classic movie stars they would pick for different characters. That was such fun. But I also treasure the comments where a reader says I have hope now that I’ve read your book and your heroine lived through a trauma like one I experienced. Bottomline, I want people to close one of my books with a sense of hope that God is always with us no matter what we’re going through.

Because I'm a homeschool mom and novelist, people often ask what our days are like. But I've found no day is typical -- which is one reason writing, and homeschooling, is so enjoyable. How about you, are the atypical days typical?

 Atypical-as-typical is the order of business. Schooling happens first. But even that has fluid weeks. For example the last week of March many of the local schools were having spring break so we did school in the morning and then the kids had friends over most afternoons. I try to build in those times with friends. But like you, I love the chaos of writing.

 To get your writing done, you've limited yourself to one TV show a week. Which show did you pick, and why?

 Right now it’s CASTLE. I love the interplay of the characters. And even though I know it’s not realistic I love the idea of a crime writer helping the police. Who can’t admit that Beckett and Castle have great chemistry, too. As a fan of the classic movies that focused on pairing leads with great chemistry, I love that aspect.

 What's up next for Cara Putman?

 This summer my family is going on an adventure while I teach a class for Purdue. I am so excited to have this extended excursion…and I have the feeling book ideas will jump out at me as we’re traveling. I can’t visit a new place without wondering what books are waiting to be written.


 Cara C. Putman lives in Indiana with her husband and four children. She’s an attorney and a teacher at her church as well as lecturer at Purdue. She has loved reading and writing from a young age and now realizes it was all training for writing books. She loves bringing history and romance to life.
 
An honors graduate of the University of Nebraska and George Mason University School of Law, Cara left small town Nebraska and headed to Washington, D.C., to launch her career in public policy.  

Cara is an author chasing hard after God as she lives a crazy life. She invites you to join her on that journey.

 Links: 
Website: http://www.caraputman.com
Blog: http://blog.caraputman.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/caraputman
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/cara_putman
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/caraputman

Look closely. One word. Toward the bottom. 

My husband's birthday is today. He turns nineteen. You think I'm kidding.

But the Hunk of Italy is a genetic freak who never seems to age. He recently went to the eye doctor for a checkup and was told him that somehow, in middle age, his eyesight is actually improving. Near-sighted in his thirties and forties, he now sees almost 20-20.

As Adrian Monk would say: It's a blessing, and a curse.

I hope the age-defying mean he'll be around a long time; but it's going to be like living with Dorian Gray.

His 19th birthday --- a High Holy Day in this house -- prompts me to share some thoughts about Spouses of Writers.

When we married, imaginary friends were already part of my life. So you could say my husband knew what he was getting into. But that's not fair, or true. Even writers don't know what they're getting into because each project comes like a fresh slice of heaven -- inspiration, enthusiasm, love -- and Hell -- failure, despair, hate.

Over the years, I've concluded that a supportive spouse is as much a gift to the writer as talent. Even when that support varies. Some spouses tolerate imaginary friends the same way they deal with meddling inlaws at Thanksgiving. Others might say that the vows about "in sickness and in health, for better or worse," doesn't mean listening to you whine about characters who won't behave.

 If that's the case, be grateful. Write in solitary confinement. God gives us our crucibles. And writers sometimes need cocoons to give birth to all the words begging from within.

Always: Be grateful.

I've had some difficult writing seasons both before and after marriage. Each challenge has taught me that wrestling agasint God's sovereignity --  protesting because I'm unsatisfied with what He's given -- only worsens the problem. In fact, ingratitude blocks the very road that all good stories must travel in order to reach the writer.

No doubt that I've been blessed with an uber-supportive spouse. He also came equipped with instant recall of every plot device in the universe. Whenever I will toss out a story idea, the response is always the same variation on a theme: "George Raft already did that in 1939. The movie was called Each Dawn I Die..." Or: "Jimmy Cagney, Sinner's Holiday, 1930. He played a tough guy who...."

This used to annoy me. Really annoy me.

Then I realized my pride was responding.

Once I stopped struggling against God's sovereign choice, I saw that my husband's instantaneous recollection of every story seen/heard/read was forcing me to get more creative with the Raleigh Harmon series.

The guy deserves a medal.

But I would contend that all Spouses of Writers deserve some kind of medal.

There's an terrible fact waiting to ambush every writer before she even begins.  And the fact is this: The world doesn't need your words.

 You might think it does. You might think the world would be immeasurably better if only your book was out there, in people's hands, filling their mind with your excellent thoughts. You can probably find a self-help book that will agree with you.

 But here in Realityville, the world already has plenty of stories. The Bible alone gives us enough drama and narrative to occupy our imaginations from birth to death -- and that book was written thousands of years ago.

This is why Spouses of Writers are so special. Each time they grant you time to write, or help you find a place to write, or listen to Your Next Great Idea, they are implicitly defying the world. By their actions, they are saying: Yes, it's all been done before, but you haven't told your story. And your story matters.

 If you're a writer with a supportive spouse, kiss them.

 Kiss them -- a lot.

 Even if they are the picture of Dorian Gray.

Some moments on earth are so wonderful, they feel like glimpses of heaven.

For me, those moments revolve around people. Sharing time with them. Enjoying their great company. Laughing.

But that beyond-the-veil feeling also comes from nature. In particular snow. I can never thank God enough for letting me grow up in Alaska.

Yesterday, the Seattle area got enough to blanket the world in white. After sledding with the kids and baking good food, I strapped on my running shoes and took off.

I'm plotting the next Raleigh Harmon mystery, and there is no better way to dream and create inside my head than running. Especially in snow. There are so few distractions -- for the eyes and the ears. Normally I just listen to steps. Cold breath. The rare bird that sings through ice.

But yesterday I decided to listen to my own soundtrack, which I'm calling Winter Wonderland. Maybe someone can add a few ideas here.

Winter Snow   Chris Tomlinson featuring Audrey Assad
It's True   Sara Groves
Peaches and Diesel   Eric Clapton
100 Years   Five for Fighting
When It's All Said and Done   Robin Mark
Carol of the Bells   George Winston
Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring   Celtic Woman (although any version seems excellent)
Forgiven and Loved    Jeremy Needham
Song for a Winter's Night   Sarah McLaughlin (Maybe even better than Gordon Lightfoot's own)    
Galveston   Glenn Campbell (What can I say? I love this song)
These Days in an Open Book   Nanci Griffith
Jesus, Jesus, Rest Your Head   George Winston
 And finally
This Guy's in Love With You   Herb Alpert and Tijuana Brass

If that last tune doesn't sense now, it will when The Stars Shine Bright comes out this summer.